The Missing Link in Modern Spiritualism. A. Leah Underhill
were, at that time, obliged to travel by the Erie Canal packet-boat, as the direct railroad between Syracuse and Rochester had not yet been built. It took a few hours longer then than now to make that journey. When we arrived at Hydesville, which is about two miles from our old homestead, we found the house deserted. My brother had persuaded the family to leave the old “haunted house,” and live with him until their new house was finished.
We drove to brother David’s, where we found mother completely broken down by the recent events. She never smiled; but her sighs and tears were heart-rending. We begged her to hope for the best, and try to think differently; but she could not. She wished we could all die; and it was, at the time, impossible to cheer her by anything we could say or do. She was only about middle age, and her health had always been good; and she was, by nature, very cheerful.
I with the ladies who accompanied me remained about two weeks, when we concluded to take Katie and Lizzie (my daughter) with us and return home to Rochester, as mother thought the former to be the one followed mostly by the sounds; and we hoped, by separating the two children (Maggie and Katie), that we could put a stop to the disturbance.
We had not gone many miles on the canal, however, when we became aware that the rapping had accompanied us. Perfect consternation came upon us. I knew not what to do. We did not wish our friends to know that the rapping had followed us; and we remained, as much as possible, by ourselves.
When we went to the dinner-table with the other passengers, the Spirits became quite bold and rapped loudly; and occasionally one end of the table would jump up and nearly spill the water out of our glasses; but there was so much noise on the boat going through the locks and other disturbances, that only we, who recognized the special sounds, knew of them. We arrived at home about 5 P.M. I sat down to think over the occurrences of the day and of other days during my visit.
The two girls had gone into the garden. All at once came a dreadful sound, as if a pail of bonnyclabber had been poured from the ceiling and fallen upon the floor near the window. The sound was horrible enough, but, in addition, came the jarring of the windows and of the whole house, as if a heavy piece of artillery had been discharged in the immediate vicinity. I was so paralyzed by fear that I could not move, and sat stupefied; again came the same terrible sound, with all the jarring, as at first; and yet again it came; when I sprang from the sofa on which I had been seated and rushed out into the garden where the children were. They immediately cried out, “Why, what is the matter with you, Leah? how pale you look!” I made some evasive reply, as I did not wish to alarm them.
We went to bed at an early hour, being tired and much excited. The children had expressed great fear, and I went to bed with them. No sooner had I extinguished the light, than the children screamed, and Lizzie said she felt a cold hand passing over her face, and another over her shoulder down her back. She screamed fearfully, and I feared she would go into spasms. Katie was also much frightened. For my part I was equally terror-stricken. I arose from my bed and sought the Bible, from which I read a chapter. But while I was reading the girls felt some touches. I had never felt them; and I could not realize that they were not in some way mistaken.
It was now late in the night and all was silent. We thought we would try to sleep, as we were tired and excited. But the instant we extinguished our light the Bible flew from under my pillow—where I had placed it, supposing that the sacred volume would be respected. The box of matches was shaken in our faces, and such a variety of performances ensued that we gave up in despair to our fate, whatever it might be. We called on each other, if either was silent a few moments, that we might know that we were all alive. Finally, when the night was nearly spent, the disturbance ceased, and we fell asleep. We did not awake until very late in the morning. The sun shone brightly, and the birds sang sweetly in the trees of the public square. (Our residence then was on Mechanics’ Square.) The June roses were just out, and all nature was in her loveliest hues. We could not make the disturbances of the past night seem real to us. I doubted everything, but kept my own counsel; and as the shades of evening fell upon the scene, which had been a day of such brightness and beauty, I made up my mind that I would go on as usual and try to forget, as far as possible, the frightful occurrences of the previous night. In the evening my friend Jane Little and two or three other friends called in to spend an hour or so with us. We sang, and I played on the piano; but even then, while the lamp was burning brightly, I felt the deep throbbing of the dull accompaniment of the invisibles, keeping time to the music as I played; but I did not wish to have my visitors know it, and the Spirits seemed kind enough not to make themselves heard so that others would observe what was so apparent to me.
All seemed quiet when we retired for the night, at about ten o’clock. We slept quietly for about two hours, when we were awakened by the most frightful manifestations. The house was in a perfect uproar. Tables and everything in the room below us were being moved about. Doors were opened and shut, making the greatest possible noises. They then walked up-stairs and into the room next to us (our bedroom was an open recess off from this room). There seemed to be many actors engaged in the performance, and a large audience in attendance.
The representation of a pantomime performance was perfect.
After the first scene, there was great applause by the Spirit audience. Immediately following, one Spirit was heard to dance as if with clogs, which continued fully ten minutes. This amused the audience very much; and a loud clapping of hands followed. After this we heard nothing more except the representation of a large crowd walking away down-stairs, through the rooms, closing the doors heavily after them. It is useless to attempt to record all the manifestations which occurred nightly during the last few weeks that we remained in that house. I came to the conclusion that it was haunted, and decided to move out of it as soon as I could find another house that suited me.
There was a house on Prospect Street, nearly finished, and I engaged it. I was particular to tell the agent that I wanted a house in which no crime had been committed. For I believed that the house I was then living in, like the one at Hydesville, was haunted; and I presumed that in this case as in the other it must have had its origin in hidden crime. He smiled as he remarked that he “thought that I would have no difficulty on that account.” We moved into this house as soon as possible, and congratulated ourselves on our good fortune in finding a place that had never before been tenanted.
Two houses stood on one foundation. On the ground floor was a kitchen, cellar, and pantry. The staircase led from the kitchen to the second floor. On the outside, a front and rear flight of steps led to a balcony from which we could enter the parlor and dining-room, on the second floor. Another flight of steps led from the dining-room to the third floor, which was one room the entire length and breadth of the house. In this last-named room we put up three beds, and one bed in the room on the parlor floor. I partitioned off a small room in one corner of the upper floor with chintz curtains. This lessened the size of the large room and afforded us a store-room. In the rear of the house was an old cemetery, called “the Buffalo Burying-ground.” This cemetery was separated from our lot by a high fence. I remember I disliked the idea of seeing those tall monuments every time I went into the pantry. (The entrance into the dining-room from the kitchen was through the pantry.)
Nothing occurred, during the first night of our occupancy of this house, of an unusual character, and we slept undisturbed.
I had written to our family at Arcadia, and told them what was transpiring with us nightly. This worried mother, and she determined to come immediately, and find some plan for suppressing it, if it could possibly be done. She, with Margaretta, arrived the next day, and we rejoiced to tell her that we had occupied the new house one night, and no sounds had been heard to disturb us. After supper we remained at the table a long time, until mother suggested that it was getting late, and we had better retire for the night.
All was quiet until about midnight, when we distinctly heard footsteps coming up the stairs, walking into the little room I had partitioned off with curtains, which seemed admirably adapted to their purposes. We could hear them shuffling, giggling, and whispering, as if they were enjoying themselves at some surprise they were about to give us. Occasionally they would come and give our bed a tremendous shaking, lifting it (and us) entirely from the floor, almost to the ceiling, and then let us down with a bang; then pat us with hands. Then they